Dizzy
by kathiekay
Summary: No one really knew why Lizzie never accepted Derek and Casey. Now we're about to find out. Futurefic, multichapter, first-person POV Lizzie. Overtones of Dasey.
1. Prologue

**A/N: For those of you who've been waiting for it, THIS is the reason why Lizzie never accepted Derek and Casey in the _Crazy Game_ trilogy. I rated it M for language and bizarro behavior. It's short, for sure, and hopefully intense. Enjoy!**

You think you know me. To you, I'm a quiet, athletic child, sexless, almost androgynous. How can I not be, with a sister like Casey? She's all woman: long hair, perfect body, dance, cheerleading. And then there's me, Lizzie: curly hair, karate, boys' clothing. Sometimes, I think my mother wanted a boy; when she didn't get one, she chose me to play one. She has a boy now. Gavin. My baby brother. Maybe I can finally start acting like a girl.

Don't think that I haven't thought like one for a while. Remember that fit I threw at the beginning of the school year? Of course you do. There was no way I was going to start grade 7 in boys' shorts. Would you? Of course you wouldn't.

Or maybe you would. Maybe you would use your athleticism and tomboyish-ness to get closer to that one person that you can't stop thinking about. Maybe you would excel at various sports and bring home ribbon after ribbon, just to catch the attention of that one person. And maybe, just maybe, you would try out for a loathsome sport just so that you can get a little one-on-one time with that one special person.

Oh, who am I talking about?

Like you don't know. _Derek._

I have loved Derek since the day we moved in with the Venturis. I was 10, he was 15, and he was _so cute_. His green eyes full of laughter and his fluffy brown hair … I didn't know what hit me. A little thrill ran through me, spread throughout my entire body.

But from Day One, it was all about Casey with him. Casey this and Casey that. "Oops, I got locked in a bathroom with Casey!" "Oops, I hurt Casey's ankle!" "What, I have to dance with Casey in some stupid competition? That I, oops, fucked up for her?" Had it been me in that bathroom all those years ago, you know what I would have done. I would have laid down on top of him, covered in shampoo, and I would have kissed him, hard.

Instead, I was hiding with Edwin. God bless him, he's a nice guy, but he's not Derek. Derek is braver, stronger. He smells better. Frankly, he's even funnier than Edwin … OK, not like that wasn't obvious. There's just something about that man.

And that's the problem, you see? Because he's a man, and I'm a girl. A 13-year-old girl, and there's just something illegal about that. Let's not mention the fact that he's my stepbrother. Or the fact that he's fucking my sister.

Oh, you heard me right. My sister, little Miss Perfect Casey McDonald, is doing Derek Venturi. Our stepbrother.

Or maybe she's not, I don't know. But she told me a few days ago that she and Derek were dating, and that sickens me. I told her in so many words that I thought so, but I made up some bullshit reason why. "Ew, Casey, he's our _brother_. You can't date your brother." I didn't have to tell her that the reason it sickens me because I wanted to be there first.

I knew I wouldn't be _his_ first. God knows how many people he's been with. I mean, we know about Sally and Kendra, and we can assume that Vicki got a slimy claw or two into him, but what about the women before we moved in? What about those random one-nighters that we have to assume he had? There was that Sandra girl, and Emily … I can't even think of the rest. Just the one stands out: Casey.

I told her once, you know, how cute I think he is. She just told me that everyone thinks he's cute, including himself, and that thinking someone is cute doesn't mean that you like-like them. I probably should have realized that she was trying to talk herself out of liking, and subsequently dating, him.

She didn't, obviously. Now they're together, doing God knows what. And it's just so fucking perfect, you know that? Casey, once again, got what she wanted.

Well, you know what? It's _my_ time. _I'm_ going to get what _I_ want. And no one is going to stop me.

I will, some day, one way or another, get Derek Venturi.

**A/N: So? Lizzie is basically obsessed with Derek! Who knew, right? I meant this as a one-shot, but if this storyline needs a little more explanation, I can definitely do it. Hope you enjoyed it!**


	2. California Gurls

**A/N: Oh, my, it's good to come back to this fic! I originally made this a one-shot and had no intention of writing anything else until after I saw _Vacation with Derek_ ... and then I never saw it. After a lovely review from NiteFang, I had to come back to this. No idea how long it's going to be, but it's a little darker than what I've previously written. Enjoy!**

**Oh, wait. First, the disclaimer that I don't own LwD or any of the original characters. Second, the plea for kindness since it's been a while since I've written AND I haven't proofed this chapter.**

"Be good, Lizzie."

"It's Mickey now, Nora," I said as I rolled my eyes, "You know that."

"And you know that I hate being called Nora," she said for the thousandth time.

For the thousandth time, I replied, "And I hate being called Lizzie."

"Why do you insist on that ridiculous nickname?" Nora asked, shaking her head.  
What's wrong with the name I gave you?"

_Because I'm not that person anymore_, I thought. _Because I haven't felt like a Lizzie since _he_ left. Because I needed to be someone new._

I didn't say any of that, of course. I just answered, "Because I like it, okay? Deal with it."

Nora sighed. "Fine, Mickey."

Then: "I wish I knew what happened to you, sweetie. You used to be so sweet and kind, and now? It's like you've been channeling ... oh, I don't know, _Derek_ for the past four years."

I winced. There it was, the one name that I couldn't stand hearing yet couldn't forget.

My world just about ended the day that I found out that _he_ was dating my perfect, blameless sister. I cried myself to sleep for days, waking up late each morning with raw, red-rimmed eyes and a hoarse voice. I couldn't tell anyone why I was upset, and after several days of asking and my refusing to talk about it, everyone left me alone. Well, everyone but one person.

My younger stepbrother, Edwin, stayed on me. He also knew that Casey and Derek were dating, but he seemed less upset about it. It might have been because he was earning a healthy profit off of the information, but it might have been because it paved the way for him.

Edwin didn't try anything until after _he_ disappeared and I fell apart. It was worse than before, because at least then I could be near him and speak with him. (Not that I had anything very complimentary to say.) But after he left? No one knew where he was. Not my stepfather, George. Not Casey. Not even his best friend, Sam.

Edwin came into my room that night, under the guise of comforting me. He didn't understand why I was so upset, and I couldn't exactly tell him, now could I? I just told him that I was worried about _him_, and that I would feel much better if we at least knew where _he_ was. You know, playing the part of the good, concerned sister.

Edwin fed me some corny line about how he could make me feel better, and then he kissed me.

I pushed him off, disgusted. I didn't want Edwin. I wanted _him._ But _he_ didn't want me. To _him_, I was just the frizzy-haired little sister of the girl that _he_ wanted.

If only I could show _him_ how much I've changed. Instead of long, curly, mousy-brown hair, I now have a platinum-blond pixie cut streaked through with purple. My nose and bellybutton are pierced and I have three tattoos (only one of which is visible). I finally grew a pair—of breasts, that is—and they're bigger than Sissy Dearest's. My legs are longer too, despite her years of dance training. And have I mentioned how much tighter my ass is?

Not that it matters, because I can't show _him_. _He's_ gone, and I'm standing here with my heart ripped open again and my mother rubbing salt in the wound.

"I have not, _Nora,_" I said. "I've just changed. Don't you have a plane to catch?"

Nora sighed again. "I suppose I do. Take care of yourself, Lizzie."

She came towards me, arms outstretched. Briefly, I let her envelop me in a hug, breathing in her signature scent of honeysuckle and melon. For a quick moment, I wished that I could be a little kid again, running around the soccer field, kicking ass at karate, or playing dress-up with my stepsister, Marti.

_It's not like that anymore_, I thought, pulling away and crossing my arms over my chest. _Those days are gone._

When Nora finally left, I closed the door behind her and looked at my new surroundings in appreciation. From my position at the front door, I could look through the common room and over the balcony to the Pacific Ocean. To my right, the kitchen gleamed bright with the shine of newly-installed appliances. I passed it as I walked down the short hallway and into the bedroom on the left.

I had positioned my bed so that I could see the ocean first thing in the morning. The walls were still bare, but I had a stack of posters ready to go and a brand-new, shined-to-perfection surfboard leaning against the corner. I figured that if I was going to be a student at the University of California, Long Beach, I might as well enjoy all of the perks that came with it.

"Anyone here?" A voice broke into my daydreaming. "Hellllooooo!"

"Hi," I said, emerging from my room, "I'm Mickey."

"Hi, Mickey, I'm Angelina. It's like, SOOO good to meet you!" Angelina dropped her bags and gave me a hug. "Where are you from? Never mind," she said, waving me off before I could answer, "we can figure that shit out later. For now, I'm dying for a smoke. Want?"

Angelina didn't wait for me to answer. She just rummaged around in her gigantic purse, cursing under her breath and pulling out items at random. "Aha!" she said, producing a crumpled pack of Camels from the depths of her bag. "Found 'em. So, want?"

We sat on the balcony and smoked until the sun set. She told me a little about her life: she's from Santa Barbara, but has always wanted to live in LA. UC Long Beach was the closest that she could get for the time being, but it's close enough. She plans on becoming a world-famous actress, but she promised her daddy that she would do at least one year in a real college before going on auditions and NO PORN.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," she said, laughing and blowing out a lungful of smoke, "and I'll only do one or two, promise. Just enough to break into the industry."

She could do it too. She was rail-thin and almost orange from tanning, with long, fake nails and long, fake hair. She was clearly cosmetically enhanced ("Thanks, Mom, for my birthday prezzie!"), and worked wonders with her makeup. I already liked her.

I told her a little about my life too. Just the normal stuff, mind you, not the part about still being painfully in love with one stepbrother and sleeping with the other.

What did you expect? Edwin's a persuasive sonofabitch and I was 14.

**A/N: So ... Lizzie is no longer Lizzie, she's in California, and she has CHANGED, both physically and mentally. What else is up with her?**


	3. Flashback

**A/N: So ... if you're new here, you may want to go read _Crazy Game, Dirty Little Secret, _and _Always You_, in that order. All of this fic will make a LOT more sense if you do. Also, it'll be the salve that you need on your achy Dasey hearts!**

"Hey, I'm already sick of this place," Angelina said, stubbing out her umpteenth cigarette on the concrete of the balcony. "Wanna go somewhere?"

"Sure," I agreed. She was right; as beautiful as the sunset was, there had to be more to Long Beach than an ocean view and a salt-laced breeze. "Do I need to change?"

Angelina looked over me with a critical eye. "Actually, no," she said finally. "I'm kind of digging that grungy, '90s throwback thing you have going on. It's kind of hot."

By "'90s throwback," she must have meant my cropped tank top that showed glimpses of my stomach (still toned from years of sports), my plaid pleated mini-skirt, suspenders, fishnet hose, and over-the-calf combat boots. Nora hated it, of course, but who cares? The guys at Thompson did, Edwin included.

I know you want to know what happened with that. Here's the short version: I was wrecked and Edwin was there.

Here's the longer version:

"_Lizzie, what's wrong?" Edwin asked._

_I turned away from him, furiously wiping at the tears streaming down my cheeks. "Nothing," I mumbled._

"_Lizzie, talk to me," he said, coming around to the other side of my bed._

"_It's nothing, Ed, get out."_

"_Liz." He placed a hand on my shoulder and bent over to look me in the eye. "It's not nothing. Come on, talk to me."_

_I sighed. "Fine, Edwin. I'm just ... upset."_

_Edwin laughed. "Obviously. But why?"_

"_I'm worried, Edwin, okay?" The words exploded out of me with more vehemence than I anticipated. "Do you realize that Derek is gone and we don't know where he is? He could be in a ditch somewhere!" I felt a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over onto my cheeks. "If we just knew _something_ ..."_

"_Lizzie, he'll be okay," Edwin said, sitting down next to me on the bed. "He's Derek. He's probably already shacked up with some other girl, all things considered._

"_Then again, maybe not," Edwin mused. "He was pretty into Casey, and after Dad and Nora forced them apart, well, I think he kind of lost it. I didn't hear one thing about him hooking up with girls during university."_

No shit, Edwin,_ I thought. _He probably stayed with Casey.

_Edwin was still talking, but I wasn't listening. I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts about how he must have still been with Casey and how they probably didn't listen to our parents and how he would _never want me_. Then something caught my attention._

"_It's not like they'd ever know."_

"_Know what?" I asked, stifling sobs._

"_Weren't you listening, Lizzie?" Edwin's eyes bored into mine. "We're in the clear. After Derek and Casey, Dad and Nora would never suspect anything."_

"_We're in the clear for what?" I asked warily, fearing where this was going._

"_This," he said. And then he kissed me roughly._

_Oh, that was _not_ what I wanted._

_I shoved him off. "Edwin!" I spat out, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "What are you doing?"_

"_Trying to convince you that we belong together," he said, moving in closer towards me. "Everyone thinks it, Lizzie, and I think they're right. Come on, you know you want to."_

_No, I didn't want to._

_"Come on, Liz, it'll make you feel better about everything," he cajoled, placing his lips next to my ear. His breath was uncomfortably hot against my cheek, and I could detect the pungent odor of roast beef and Provolone._

_"I ... I don't want to," I said eventually, trying to mask my distaste and put some distance between us._

_"Don't let me force you into anything," Edwin whispered, placing his hand on top of mine, "but you know where I am if you need me."_

_He left, throwing me a meaningful look over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. I buried my face in my pillow, a fresh wave of sobs coming over me and threatening to drown me in my own sorrow._

_I couldn't sleep that night._

_I tossed and turned for hours, stopping only to disentangle myself from my bedsheets. A cool breeze blew in through my open window, rustling the newly-leafed tree and bringing with it the scents of spring. I tried to picture where Derek might be, but I couldn't place him._

_After Casey called in a panic—the first time that she had voluntarily spoken with either George or Nora since they forced her and Derek apart—George started calling around. He tried the apartment that Derek and Sam shared at Queen's, hoping to reach Sam, but all he found was a note and a check for the remainder of the year's rent. He tried Ralph, who, even if he had known where Derek was, probably wouldn't think it too important to remember. He tried Emily, who hung up after unleashing some scathing comments. No one knew where he was; no one knew where he was going._

_I sighed, and finally heaved myself out of bed. If I couldn't imagine where Derek was, I might as well visit Edwin and see what he thought._

_I crept up the stairs, skipping the third, sixth, and seventh steps, and knocked lightly on the door. Edwin opened the door, as if he was waiting for me, and motioned for me to join him on the bed. Listlessly, I did. Nothing mattered anymore._

"Mickey."

I snapped out of my reverie to see Angelina digging through her gigantic bag again. She was peering into its depths while she spoke.

"I know of this great place not too far from here where a bunch of junior people from the studios hang out. My friend Finna told me about it. You down?"

"Sure," I said, flicking my butt over the edge of the balcony, "why not?"


	4. In The Club

**A/N: Picking up from the last chapter, we discovered that Lizzie and Edwin did, in fact, form Lizwin for some unspecified amount of time. Two years, maybe?**

We got to the club right before midnight. It turned out that Angelina's friend Finna used to date the manager, so instead of standing in the ever-growing line, we were escorted in by the muscle-bound bouncer and told to order whatever we wanted, first drinks on the house. I tried to order a beer, but Angelina waved my hand away and asked for a Vodka Red Bull instead.

"You're a hot girl, Mickey," she said, screaming to be heard over the music, "and hot girls don't drink beer in clubs. This is more like it." She gestured at the golden drinks that the bartender handed us.

I accepted my drink and turned to observe the scene. The club pulsed, heaving to the rhythm of the over-pumped bass. It was dark, illuminated only by strategically placed spotlights, running lights on the floor that led to the exits and bathrooms, and fluorescents in the well of the bar. The spacious dance floor was flanked on three sides by tall tables and barstools; the fourth side boasted an elevated DJ booth crammed full of expensive stereo equipment. There were two raised stages on the dance floor with bars protecting the sides, and two scantily-clad club goers were gyrating on the poles protruding from the centers.

"Have you been here before?" I asked Angelina, taking a sip of my drink through the stirrer and leaning against the bar.

"No," she answered, shaking her head, "but like I said, Finna said that a lot of junior people hang out here.

"Like there," she said, inclining her head towards a table in the far corner of the room. "See them? Scruffy and tired, but a little smug and surrounded by beautiful girls? Those are industry guys." She put her drink back on the bar and adjusted her boobs. "And I'm going to meet them. Come on."

I followed Angelina across the crowded dance floor as she wound her way through the sweaty bodies. There were three of them: two were classically good-looking, with blond, sun-streaked hair and tanned bodies. The third one, though, caught my attention. His eyes were heavy-lidded with exhaustion, and he had over-long, shaggy brown hair that he tied back in a short, natty ponytail. He wore a holy t-shirt, board shorts, and flip-flops; he was dressed more for a day at the beach than a night at the club. Compared to the crisp Polo shirts and khaki shorts of his companions, he looked like someone in a game of "Which One Doesn't Belong?"

One of the men saw us coming. He nudged his friend, who was in conversation with a tall, slim girl-who would have been gorgeous if not for her slightly bucked teeth—and flashed a wide, white smile at us. Classic American Man. The third man, the one that I inexplicably found myself drawn to, was leaning his back against the table and resting his elbows on top of it. He had a bored look on his face, and was absentmindedly nodding at something that another tall, slim, beautiful girl was saying to him.

I saw Angelina plaster on a bright, flirtatious smile and stick out her ample chest in their direction. The two Classic American Men obviously reacted—they straightened their backs and ran long, strong fingers through their hair—but the third man took no notice of us. I followed Angelina's lead, hoping to catch the third man's attention, but he didn't notice us in the slightest.

This guy was pissing me off. After years of sexing up my image, I started to enjoy—no, _expect—_male attention, and this guy was behaving as if we didn't exist

When we arrived at their table, we spent a full five seconds looking at each other. Angelina's eyes darted between the two Classic American Men, I lasered my gaze on the third guy, and the three model wannabes hanging around the edge of the table shot daggers at us. Finally, Angelina broke the loaded silence

"Hey," she said, flashing a mega-watt smile at one of the California twins, "you gotta light?"

Classic American Man #2 pointed across the dance floor at a small, unobtrusive glass door. "You have to go out there," he said. "That's the smoker's patio."

"That's not what I asked," she said, smiling at him and ignoring the icy glare of the buck-toothed girl. "I asked if you had a light. You can give it to me somewhere else." As she spoke, Angelina leaned forward ever-so-slightly, giving Classic American Man #2 a glimpse of her girls, and grinned naughtily. A red flush crept up his neck, and I have to say, I was impressed. She could have easily landed a role in an adult film with that line and that move right there.

_Maybe that's what she's going for_, I mused. _These guys are supposed to be industry types, but she didn't say what industry._

"I-I don't," he stammered, "but my boy Easy here smokes sometimes. E, you gotta light for the pretty lady?"

"Nope," the third man muttered, not looking at Classic American Man #2, "all out."

"That's okay," Angelina said, giggling coyly and throwing her dark, coppery hair over her shoulder, "I have. I just, like, wanted an excuse to come talk to you. Come with?"

As Angelina and Classic American Man #2—Josh, I later found out—disappeared out onto the smoker's patio, I stayed behind and made small talk with Classic American Man #1. Mark was his name, and he was a junior executive assistant at Columbia Pictures.

"We all are," Mark said, gesturing around the table. "Josh, Easy, me, we all work there. Easy's been there the longest. Right, E?" Mark punched the mysterious third man in the arm playfully.

He gave Mark a look of disdainful irritation, the same look that I found myself giving Nora and the rest of the McDonald-Venturi clan. Easy rolled his eyes, then grabbed his empty bottle and headed towards the bar, leaving the girl that had been talking to him in mid-sentence.

"Easy's a little sensitive," Mark said, turning back to me. "We think that he's pissed because he keeps getting passed over for promotion. He's good at our job, but he could do so much more if he just gave a shit, ya know? It's weird—rumor has it that he was by-name recommended for this job by some director while shooting up in BC. Golden boy who was willing to work his way up the ladder and some shit like that. Then he shows up, and he's good, but it's like he doesn't care about anything but doing the job and getting wasted every night. Most of us, we work late if we need to and try to suck up to the muckety-mucks so we can get promoted, but E? He leaves at 6 every night, collects his paycheck, and spends most of it at the bar until he's too tanked to drive home. He usually goes by himself, but Josh and I tagged along tonight just to see what the hell he does. We still haven't figured it out, really.

"It's weird," he said again. "We don't even know his name. We all just call him Easy or E."

I barely registered what Mark was saying. When Easy looked up, my heart stopped in my chest, and it took all of my strength to force air into my lungs. They may have not known who Easy was, but I couldn't forget those chocolate brown eyes flecked through with green and gold.

_Derek._

**A/N: Dun dun dun! We found Derek! So now what's in store for our heroes? Keep reading (and reviewing, kthxbai) to find out!**


	5. Comeuppance

**A/N: I'm back! I'm sorry it's been so long; I wasn't purposely holding out on you, promise. Life just got in the way, as well as the novel (!) I'm editing. I've been reading your reviews, however, and I've been working on this next installment of _Dizzy_.**

**This chapter is COMPLETELY unedited ... srsly, I probably have spelling, continuity, and grammar mistakes all throughout. If you find one, let me know. (ESPECIALLY continuity ... do you know how hard it is to keep these storylines straight?)**

**As always, I don't own LwD or any of the characters aside from the ones that are not canon (i.e. Angelina, Finna, Josh, Mark, etc.)**

**Enjoy!**

_How in the world did this even happen?_ I wondered incredulously, nodding my head and pretending to listen to His-Name-Doesn't-Even-Matter-Now. _I lose Derek all those years ago, and I run into him in a trashy club in Long Beach? For reals?_

Derek returned from the bar with two brown glass bottles, one in each hand. He placed one in front of me on the table, clinked the necks of the bottles together, and took a deep gulp of the one that he kept for himself.

_Be cool be cool be cool._

"I already have a drink, thanks," I said coolly, shaking the Vodka Red Bull in my right hand.

"Yeah, but you're a beer girl, I can tell,"

Derek said, flashing that familiar, heartbreaking grin at me. "You look Canadian too. Am I right?"

"Yeah, I am," I said. _Does he not know who I am?_

"Same here," he said, taking another deep gulp of his beer. "Grew up in London. How about you?"

_Oh, shit, he really doesn't know who I am._

"Uh, E, don't you have someone else to talk to?" Mark interrupted, looking pointedly at the girl that was still hovering at Derek's elbow.

"Nope," he said, turning his body square with mine and driving himself between Mark and me. "I'd like to talk to my fellow Canuck. You don't see too many of 'em down here. What's your name?"

"Mickey," I said, picking up the beer that Derek bought me and took a long, nerve-steadying pull.

"And what brings you to L.A., Mickey?" he asked, purposefully ignoring the looks of loathing from Mark the and forgotten girl .

"School," I said, trying to keep the tremor of excitement and shock out of my voice. "I'm starting UCLB next week. Earth Sciences."

"Wow, so you're smart and pretty," he said, flashing me another one of his signature grins. "Anything else I should know?"

_You're my long-lost stepbrother that I'm still painfully in love with?_

"Nope, that about covers it," I said, returning his smile. "Anything else I should know about you?"

"Nope."

"Good, then let's get outta here."

I put my drink down and went out to the smoker's patio to tell Angelina that I was leaving. She didn't care; she was sitting in Josh's lap, her legs around his waist and his hands on her ass. She dismissed me with a wave of her hand and a mumbled, "Call me if you need to," as she threw back her head and let Josh snake his tongue up her neck.

While I was telling Angelina my plans, Derek had called a cab, which was now waiting for us outside the club. The door was barely closed before he was pressing his mouth to my ear, my neck, my lips.

"You're so hot, Mickey," he said, breathing heavily and sliding his hand up my thigh. "I can't wait to get you into my bed tonight."

I swatted his hand away playfully. "I bet you say that to all the girls," I teased, crossing my legs towards him and letting my skirt ride up a little.

Derek audibly groaned. He reached out for my thigh again, but I intercepted his hand and took his middle finger into my mouth. That was something I learned from Edwin; a man equates finger sucking with, well, suction elsewhere.

You still want to know the details of that night, don't you? How Edwin managed to convince me to be with him?

"_Liz," he said softly. I sat motionlessly on the edge of the bed, my jaw set and my breathing ragged. I felt the bed sag as Edwin sat down. I involuntarily rolled into him, and he caught me with a fleshy arm around my shoulders._

_I couldn't help it; I started sobbing again. As heartily as I knew that I wasn't in love with Edwin, he was my closest friend, and I needed a friend. I needed someone who would unconditionally be there for me._

"_Shh, Liz, it's okay," he said, stroking my hair with his free hand. He pulled me in closer, and I collapsed with my head in his lap. I laid there, crying and shaking, for what seemed like hours. Edwin was so sweet; he just told me over and over again that it would be okay._

"_Where do you think he is?" I asked when I could finally breath again._

"_Derek?" Edwin asked, surprised. "Oh, I don't know. Like I said before, shacked up with some girl, probably."_

"_Yeah, probably," I repeated sadly._

"_You're really torn up about this, aren't you?" Edwin asked, an odd, piercing quality to his voice._

"_Yeah," I answered, the truth of the statement surprising even me._

"_What's this about, Lizzie?" Edwin asked accusingly. "You're acting like you're in love with him."_

_I didn't say anything. I didn't have to. After all of these years, Edwin knew me better than anyone else. Shoot, I knew him better than anyone else. And I knew that Edwin rarely asked a question that he didn't already know the answer to._

"_He won't come back, you know that," Edwin said finally. "And even if he did, he's in love with Casey."_

"_I know that, Edwin," I said, sitting up to face him. "It doesn't change the fact that I still have feelings for him."_

"_And me?" he asked._

"_What about you?"_

"_Do you have feelings for me?"_

_I merely looked at him. He knew the answer to that question too._

"_Lizzie," he said, scooting in closer to me, "he's not coming back."_

"_I know."_

"_And I'm here."_

"_I know."_

"_And if you can't have him, at least you can have me."_

_I looked at him with what had to have been a surprised look. After earlier this evening, after his propositioning me, after telling me that we belonged together, was he seriously fine with knowingly being Derek's second?_

"_What do you mean?" I asked warily, waiting for an explanation._

"_I mean," he said patiently, "that I'm willing to take what you can give me. I know it won't be everything, because part of you belongs to him. But I'll take what I can get."_

_ Well, wasn't that just the exact right thing to say? I was clearly hurting, I was clearly in need of companionship, and here's Edwin, professing to take me as I was, broken heart and all. I knew what I had to do._

"_You can have me, Ed," I said, forcing myself to meet his eyes. I pulled off my shirt and said, "All of me."_

"I want you so bad, Mickey," Derek said, closing his eyes and breathing out in short, quick gusts. I could see how excited he was, and I silently thanked Edwin for teaching me what I knew. I continued to flick my tongue up and down Derek's finger, eliciting moans from him and dirty looks from the cabbie. I didn't care; I was about to get my comeuppance on Little Miss Perfect.

The cab deposited us at a run-down house in a depressing neighborhood. I didn't know where I was exactly, although I could still faintly hear the ocean crashing against a distant shore. Derek dug around in a pocket of his board shorts, fumbling around until he produced a brass key. I stood behind him, admiring the strong, straight lines of his shoulders. That was one thing that hadn't changed about him.

Derek finally got the door unlocked, and with a flick of his wrist, he pushed the door open.

"After you, Mickey," he slurred, gesturing for me to go inside.

**A/N: So? Is Edwin the master? Is Lizzie irreparably damaged? How about Derek?**


	6. Pieces of Me

**A/N: I'm back! Enjoy the next installment of _Dizzy_.**

An hour later, I laid in bed, naked and curled into the crook of Derek's arm. He was sleeping, his mouth hanging open and his other arm flung over his forehead. His knotted hair was splayed across the pillow, having come loose from the rubber band, and he snored gently. He was also naked, and I could see the outline of his body underneath the thinning sheets. He was softer than he used to be, particularly around the mid-section. It wasn't what I had expected, but it didn't matter. I finally had a piece of Derek Venturi.

Carefully, I eased out of his embrace and walked towards the door, taking care to maneuver around the various items of clothing, scripts, and CDs littering the floor. I felt a slight squish as my foot landed on a used condom; further inspection let me know that it wasn't ours. I shuddered slightly, but I only let myself think about it for a second. I didn't want to ruin the memory of our twenty minutes of hot, passionate sex.

I made my way down the hall to the one bathroom in the dingy house. I wrinkled my nose as I looked at the toilet seat; it clearly hadn't been cleaned in ages, and there were cracks running throughout the base. I steeled myself and sat down to pee, trying to ignore the smudge of what looked suspiciously like shit smeared on the seat. From my place on the toilet, I could see myself in the mirror. I looked good: my hair was mussed, but in a sexy way, and the bluish flickering light made me look like I was glowing. I smiled and ran my hands over my body. I felt good, too. Strong. Independent. Someone that would finally be worthy of Derek.

I flushed and headed for the kitchen. It, like the bathroom, was a pig sty. There were dirty dishes piled in the sink, and a thin layer of grime covered the Spanish-tiled floor. I winced as I stepped on something that crumbled under my feet; there was no telling what it was, and pieces of it were now stuck to my foot, no doubt held in place by Derek's long-forgotten cum.

I rummaged around in the cabinet for a glass. Finding none, I looked around for a sponge and some soap to clean out one of the many glasses laying in the sink. No luck there either. Finally, I just stuck my head under the tap and gulped a few mouthfuls of water to sate my thirst.

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I walked back to the bedroom and sat on the bed next to Derek. I just wanted to look at him for a while before treating him to round two.

"What are you doing?" he asked, without opening his eyes.

"Oh!" I gasped. I wasn't expecting him to be awake, not yet. I had to get it together. "I was just wondering when you were going to be ready for another go-around."

"A what?" he asked, opening his eyes and rolling them towards me. There was no mirth in them, and for a second, I found myself unable to breathe. There was no way that he didn't want me after the way I just rocked his world, right?

"More sex, silly," I said, swatting a playful hand at him. "I didn't get enough of you the first time."

"It sure felt like you did," he said, deadpan. He reached onto his nightstand and I watched, speechless, as he grabbed his wallet and pulled out a few twenties. "Here," he said, tossing them on the bed next to me, "this should be enough to get you home. Keep the rest."

"Excuse me?" I asked, horrified. Why was Derek was throwing money at me? Did he think I was some kind of hooker?

"What, did you think I was going to make you pay for your own cab home?" he asked, surprise in his voice. "C'mon, I have more class than that."

"Actually, I expected you to drive me home in the morning," I said haughtily, trying to keep my desperation out of my voice. I hadn't actually thought that far ahead, but now that it was out there, I knew that I didn't want to call a cab and slink home like a cheap whore.

Derek scoffed. "Wow, Mickey, you really are new in town. I have to work in the morning and my car is at the club. What, would you rather we take the cab back and I drive you home then?"

I snatched up my clothes and started to pull them on. "No," I said scathingly, thrusting one leg into my fishnets, "I wouldn't. Let me take your charity money and get the fuck outta here." I hurriedly slipped on my skirt, not bothering to zip it, and pulled my shirt over my head. Screw the bra, he can keep it. An exhibition in his Museum of Whores.

"Hey, Mickey," he said, sitting up in bed and running a hand through his hair, "don't be pissed. This is just the way things are done here."

"Well, not where I come from," I spat, lacing up my boots. "And not where you come from either. So don't give me some bullshit about 'This is how I was raised.'"

"And what do you know about that?" he asked, suddenly, violently angry. "It's not like you know my life, sweetheart."

"Oh yeah?" I challenged, standing up, "try me. You tell me you're not Derek Venturi, hockey stud and all-around Big Man on Campus, the same Derek Venturi that shamefully fucked his step-sister, and I'll take back everything I just said."

Derek looked at me with a horrified look. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no words came out. His face slowly turned purple, and he looked like he couldn't breathe.

"How did you know?" he whispered. "No one here knows that."

"Because you did it again, D-Rock," I said, using his friends' old nickname for him. "You fucked your step-sister. I'm Lizzie."

**A/N: Dun dun dunnnnnnnn! Lizzie makes the big reveal. How do you think Derek is going to take it? Let me know when you R/R!**


	7. Round Two

**A/N: I can't believe it's been seven months since I last published on this story. Clearly, it's taking a while to get this one out. This chapter was written about five months ago; it just needed a quick polish. Can someone remind me to update this more often? Like once a week, maybe?**

Derek's mouth dropped open. "No, you're not," he said, shaking his head forcefully, "there's no way. Lizzie is small and has brown hair and loves the environment and is into sports and my brother Edwin. You're playing a trick on me. Who told you all of this? Someone had to have told you." He frantically felt around for his fraying boxers and, finding them, jammed one leg into the opening at the waist.

I laughed sharply. "No one told me anything, Derek. I _lived_ it. I lived in the shadows of your confidence and Casey's intelligence. Edwin's your brother and Marti was the cute one, but what was I to you? _Nothing_, that's what. Nothing but Casey's boyish little sister, the freak with the frizzy hair and the freckles. But now, hooooo, now, I got you. I _had_ you. And you know what? You weren't that good." I zipped my skirt and ran a hand through my hair, making it stand on end. "So fuck you, Derek Venturi. Fuck your job, fuck your nasty room in this ugly house, and fuck your stupid, pathetic life." I turned towards the door, willing the tears to stay where they were until I could get out of the house.

"Hey, shut the fuck up wit' all the fucking!" I stopped short when I saw a dark-skinned, overweight man backlit in the doorway. "I'm tryin' ta sleep."

"Sorry, Les," Derek mumbled, coming up behind me and grabbing my arm. He pulled me behind him and forced me to sit on the bed. "It won't happen again."

"It better not, _agori_, or your ass is gonna be out on the street. What did I tell you about bringing loud women back here?"

"Don't do it," Derek said, still mumbling and staring at a stain in the mangy shag carpet.

"Fine, then don't fucking do it." Les turned to leave. "And I want my rent, E. You're late again."

"That probably meant 'sister-fucker,'" I said scornfully, wrenching my arm out of Derek's iron grasp. "Fuck this shit, I'm outta here." I picked up Derek's dirty money from the floor and shoved it into the waistband of my skirt. "Just call me a cab and I'm gone."

"Don't go, Lizzie," Derek said quietly, not meeting my eye. He rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, his belly hanging over the waist of his boxers. "We have to talk about this."

"Talk? About what?" I asked. "There's nothing to talk about, Derek. We fucked. I got what I wanted, you got something you wanted, and now you want me gone. It's done. Over. Finito." I crossed my arms across my chest and glared at him.

"Lizzie, it can't be over," Derek said, jerking his head up. Tears moistened the corners of his eyes, emphasizing the deep sorrow within them. "Did you really think you meant nothing to me?"

_Oh, well isn't this just dandy?_ I thought in disgust. _Derek, playing the pity card. Not like I haven't seen this one before._

"I know I was," I said shortly. "So forget it. Like I said, call me a cab so I can get the fuck out." I started towards the door. "I'll wait outside."

"No," Derek said forcefully, skirting around me and blocking the doorway, "I don't care how mad you are, you can't wait outside around here. It's dangerous."

I laughed. "You had no problem with that a few minutes ago when you thought that I was just some cheap piece of ass!" I tried to get around him, but he stopped me.

"I thought that because you look like one!" Derek exclaimed, glancing me over from top to bottom. "And you act like one, too. What the hell happened to you, Lizzie?"

"Like you should talk," I spat, taking a step back. "I, at least, am making something of my life. I'm going to get my degree and then work for a non-profit or EPA or Environment Canada or something. Looking amazing and being sexually liberated doesn't mean that I'm going to end up dancing on a stage. And even if I did, at least I have the body for it.

"You, on the other hand, have nothing," I continued. "You live in one room in a disgusting house in the fucking ghetto, Derek. I know you've been in the same position in the same studio for years—Mark told me, by the way—and that you somehow got the job in BC, but then keep fucking it up. So forget about me, Derek, what the hell happened to you?"

"Do you even need to ask, Liz?"Derek asked angrily. "Do you need to hear me say it out loud?"

"Yeah, actually, I do," I said, crossing my arms over my chest again. "Because nobody knows what happened to you when you left. I thought you _died_, Derek. Nobody heard from you for weeks. The only reason we knew that you were still alive is because Sally called us."

"Yeah, I was pissed at her for that," Derek admitted, picking up his rubber band from the pillow and pulling his hair back into a low ponytail. "For a long time, actually."

"And you think we weren't angry?" I asked. "George almost got into the car to drag your ass back from Vancouver. Nora stopped him; she said it was time to let you go and live your life. That they had meddled too much."

"Really?" Derek asked, perking up a little. "She said that?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Derek, it had nothing to do with you and Casey." Derek's face fell visibly, and I felt my heart sink with it. "Nora just meant that maybe if she and George hadn't pushed you into uni, maybe you wouldn't have defiled her daughter. _Daughters_, I should say."

"Liz, stuff with Casey happened way before we went to Queen's," he said softly. "I fell in love with her a long time ago."

_And he clearly still loves her. _"Whatever, Derek. You know she moved to England, right?"

"She did what?" Derek asked, his eyes opening wide.

"She moved to England with some American guy. He's a special agent."

"Liz, stop being such a fucking liar," Derek said, rummaging through the piles on the floor and coming up with a package of stepped-upon cigarettes. "Casey is not living in England with a special fucking agent."

"Actually, she is," I said, plucking a cigarette from Derek's crushed pack and sitting next to him on the bed. "I don't really know the details; Casey emailed Nora to let everyone know that she was leaving." I looked around on the floor for a lighter. I found one on the nightstand and grabbed it. "But yeah, I guess they met in Boston while she was at Harvard. He's in the Air Force and is a full-on special agent, and when he had to move, she went with him."

"So it's serious then," Derek said, without emotion.

"I guess," I said, flicking the lighter to ignite. "Like I said, all we got was an email. That was a month ago and since then, nothing. But you know they're living together. I mean, they have to be. There's no way that she can support herself while she's still in school. She'll probably end up knocked up and married by the end of the year." I took a drag on the cigarette and held the smoke in my lungs, letting the carcinogens leech into my blood stream. In a slow, thin stream, I blew out the smoke and watched it dissipate in the silence.

I glanced over at Derek. He was sitting on the bed, motionless, holding the crushed pack of cigarettes between his hands. His eyes were closed, his head hanging, and in that moment, I knew I had never seen a man as broken as he was. I did it. I broke him.

Derek looked up and flashed me a quick, forced, seductive smile. "Well, you ready for that second round?"

**A/N: DAAAAMMMMMNNN. So now Derek knows that Casey moved to England (ref. _Always You_, Chapter 7 for a refresher), and Lizzie got a little more insight into Derek's undying love for Casey. Also, what's up with Derek? He really seems to be broken. How do you think he eventually recovers?**


	8. Moving In

**A/N: Thanks for sticking with the story so far! It's coming to a close soon - I think I'm going to give it another chapter or two and then wrap it up. It's been fun!**

A second round turned into a third, which turned into two years of phone calls, movies, and late-night dinners. Many evenings, I would meet him after he finished work and I finished class. We would go back to his place, I'd cook dinner, and then we would lounge around until it was time for bed. Every once in a while, I would visit the studio offices and sit with him while he worked on script revisions or arranged cars for the producers and directors. We didn't talk much, but we didn't need to. The connection that we formed transcended words.

Derek and I were lying in bed one morning, slick with post-coital sweat and watching the early-morning sunlight cut a triangle across the ceiling. From down the hall, I could hear the rhythmic creaking of Les's bed as he began his day. The musky scent of sex hung in the air, smothering us into silence.

Finally, Derek, spoke: "Traffic is going to be a bitch this morning."

"I know."

"Do you need a ride back to your apartment?"

"I might."

"OK, I'll take you. They can do without me for a few hours."

I felt a small smile creep across my face and a thrill run down my spine. After years of feeling like I could rely only on myself, it was so nice to have someone take care of me. I would never get sick of Derek blowing off his other commitments for me. Some days though, it was inconvenient to wait for him to battle traffic from Culver City to come get me. I would rather already be home.

"I've been thinking about something," I began, sitting up in bed and pulling the duvet around my body.

"What's that?"

"Well, I've been here almost every night for a while," I said, gathering my courage. "This place is kind of a dump, and it would be nice to spend our time somewhere a little nicer." _And cleaner_.

"It's all I can afford," Derek said, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on an elbow. "And I don't really have time to look around. You know I have stuff to do."

"I know," I said. "But I have time to look around, and I have a housing allowance from George and Nora. Combined with what you pay in rent now, we could get a decent place. Something closer to campus and to the studio. Maybe even something with a view, if I got a job."

"We?"

"Yes, we," I said. "Derek, we've been dating for over two years. It's about time we took the next step, don't you think?"

Derek sat up. "Liz, what do you think the next step is?" he asked. The sun streaked across his sunken ribcage, making the little chest hair he had gleam copper.

I felt my body grow cold. This wasn't the way this conversation was supposed to go.

"M-m-moving in together," I stammered, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.

Derek laughed sharply. "Moving in together? And then what, Liz, getting engaged? Married?"

I started to speak: "I wasn't thinking that"-

- "because we all know how that would go over," Derek cut in, raking a hand through his hair. "It wouldn't. I've already lived through that experience, and it's not one that I want to repeat.

"Besides, I don't want to move in with you, Lizzie. I lived with you for four years, and that was enough."

My heart stopped. In the silence, I heard him, finally, loud and clear.

"You don't want to be with me?" I asked him softly, looking at the faded blue covering in my lap.

"Not the way you want me to be," Derek answered firmly.

"What way then?"

"This," he said, indicating between us with a finger. "I like this. Low-key, frequent sex, no commitment. It's good for me. I can do this."

_But I can't._

"Is there anyway I can change your mind?" I asked, fighting to keep the desperation out of my voice and the tears off my cheeks. I was ready to beg, but he didn't need to know that.

"You can try," Derek said with a rakish grin. "What did you have in mind?"

My head snapped up, and I could feel the fire behind my eyes. This wasn't about sex. Not for me, anyway. But clearly, that's all it was for him.

Quickly, snippets of our life together came rushing to the forefront of my mind. The night that I waited for him in his office until 2am, only to find that he left with the other juniors for dinner. The day that I was so sick that I needed to go to the ER for fluids, and he was conveniently unreachable by phone. The time that he had Dodgers tickets and showed up with another woman. But how whenever it was convenient for him, whenever he wanted sex, or I wanted sex, he was available, willing, and able.

How did I not see how badly he had treated me? And how did he respond _every single time_ I called him out on his bad behavior?

"Don't be so sensitive, Liz."

Because I looked up to him so much as a kid, because I loved him so much and so often as an adult, I always let it slide. I told myself that he was right, I was overreacting, this was my fault. It was always my fault.

"Nothing, Derek," I snapped, pulling a pair of yoga pants over my hips. "I'm done with this bullshit."

"What?" he asked incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"You better goddamn believe that I'm serious," I said, pulling a fitted t-shirt over my head and stuffing my feet into my shoes.

"So what, after two years, you just all of a sudden decide that what I'm giving you isn't good enough?" he asked. "Come on, you know you need this."

"Not as badly as I need someone who actually cares about me," I retorted, scanning the cluttered floor for the rest of my things. I caught sight of a stray sock and stuffed it into my bag. "I thought you were that person, Derek, but I guess I was wrong."

"Whatever, Liz, you'll be back," he said. "You always come back."

"Not this time, jackass," I said over my shoulder, slamming the door shut behind me.

**A/N: Thank goodness Lizzie got some balls! But will she stick to her guns? Read on to find out ... **


	9. Absolution

**A/N: OK, I lied. I couldn't wrap up the story in this chapter, so you get at least one more, probably two or three. Enjoy!**

I cried from Derek's house to the bus stop, past the docks, through dying neighborhoods, all the way into Long Beach. By the time I reached my apartment, though, my tears had dried and my anger subsided. The only thing left was a hollow feeling of resolution. It was over.

That doesn't mean I wasn't sad, though. I wanted Derek for _years_. A dream like that doesn't die easily, even when the reality of it is less than fulfilling.

"Oh em gee, what did that bastard do this time?" Angelina asked when I walked in, trails of dried tears on my face.

I couldn't say anything. I just looked at her, listless, and walked into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. I pulled a chipped mug from the cabinet above the coffee maker and poured myself a cup of the steaming hot brew.

"Mickey, when are you going to dump this guy and _move on?_" Angelina asked, following me into the kitchen. "I never see you, and when I do, you look like shit. He's no good for you. Gawd, I never should have taken you to that club."

I tried to tune Angelina out as she rambled on about how I could do so much better, how I tied myself down too young, how there was more out there for me, blah blah blah. It was the same thing that she's been saying for years; the script never changed. The only thing that changed this time was me. I finally saw what a colossal jerk Derek was.

"Ang," I said, breaking into her monologue, "you can save it. I broke up with him this morning."

"Nuh uh!" she shrieked, her mouth gaping open. "Well, I got that wrong. What happened? Tell me everything."

I recapped the last 12 hours for her, leaving out the details of the mind- and body-bending sex. I told her about how I asked Derek if he wanted to move in together ("No, you didn't! When were you going to tell me?"), how he said no, that he didn't want to live with me. How I told him it was over and stormed out of there.

"Good for you!" Angelina said when I finished my abbreviated version of the story. "You needed to get that loser out of your life. Something must have happened to him when he was a kid. He's so damaged."

_She has no idea._

"I know what you need," Angelina continued, "a night out."

"Oh, Ang, I'm not ready to just get back out there"- I began.

"Not a regular club, Mick. You need a break from guys, I think. I'm talking about a drag club."

"But, aren't those just ... guys?" I asked.

"Well, yeah, but not ones that are going to screw you over. Come on, we'll go, we'll drink, we'll dance, and we'll just have fun. Without trying to hook up with anyone."

I had to admit, it sounded good. A chance to get out and do something, to go somewhere besides a one-room hovel in a blue-collar town.

"Alright, Ang, I'm in."

Angelina left for an audition, leaving me to my own devices for the day. I had things to do, schoolwork to complete, but I didn't feel like doing any of it. I found myself pacing the apartment, flipping through channels, scanning websites until finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

I left the apartment, wandering aimlessly down side streets. I stopped at a food truck for tacos, the good kind with shredded pork and avocado, but I could only choke down two bites before losing my appetite. My aimless ambling led me to the beach, the water stretching out in front of me endlessly. I kicked off my shoes, rolled up my pant legs, and waded in.

I stood there for a moment, gazing across the Pacific Ocean, and suddenly, the weight of what I did came crashing down on me. I was totally and utterly alone.

I burst into tears, fat, salty drops rolling down my face as I held my head in my hands. Violent sobs shook my shoulders, and I squatted into the surf. Water washed over me, ridding me of that awful, destructive relationship. When I could cry no more, when I had completely exorcised myself of Derek, I stood up, wiped my face, and turned away from the horizon.

"Mickey!"

I opened my eyes and saw a shadow hovering in the setting sun. I blinked, disoriented, feeling particularly grimy. Then I remembered: I was on the beach. I dunked myself in the surf. I must have fallen asleep.

"I have been looking for you _everywhere_," Angelina said, throwing her hands out to the sides. "I was like, getting ready to call the cops!"

"What time is it?" I asked, sitting up and arching my sore, sandy back.

"Almost eight," she answered, flopping down beside me on the sand. "Gawd, when I came back and you weren't there, I freaked OUT."

"How did you find me?"

"Lucky, I guess," she said, fishing around in her ever-present, oversized bag for a pack of cigarettes. "I've seen you come down here before when E was being an ass, and I guess I hoped that you were here again. Want?" Angelina held the pack towards me.

"Yeah." I took one of the proffered cigarettes and accepted her light. I took a deep breath, held in the smoke, and exhaled. I felt my body relax, and I breathed a heavy sigh.

"So what made you change your mind this time?" Angelina asked, lighting her own cigarette and blowing out a quick puff of smoke. "I get that he said no to moving in, but he's done WAY worse things to you. There's more. Dish."

"You know, Ang, there are some details you really just don't want to know," I said, gazing out over the glowing horizon.

"Maybe not," she said, leaning back on her elbow and pulling on her cigarette, "but let's hear it anyway. I gots all the time in the world, Mick."

I took a deep breath. She was right. I needed to confide in someone, someone who wouldn't judge me too harshly and could offer a little perspective on the entire situation. Not that it would change anything, no, but after years of hiding what we were, I really just needed to get it out. My body may have been absolved, but my mind hadn't.

"So?" she asked expectantly.

"Angelina, E's real name is Derek. He's my step-brother."

**A/N: How do you think Angelina will react? Share your theory when you R/R!**


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